


Comfort During Illness

by vodka_and_some_sass



Series: Tom Gives You . . . [2]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Allergies, Caretaking, F/M, Fluff, Pandemics, Quarantine, Sickness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:55:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29290209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vodka_and_some_sass/pseuds/vodka_and_some_sass
Summary: Tom Gives You… is a series of unconnected stories that you can read for when you are in a certain situation, or want to feel a certain way. It’s based on ‘Open When’ letters and I hope you find comfort in reading them the way I found in writing them!When you begin your morning with a stuffy nose and headache, you fear that you are falling sick. Afraid that whatever you have is contagious, you lock yourself in a room and refuse to let Tom take care of you until you are sure it is safe.
Relationships: Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Series: Tom Gives You . . . [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151060
Kudos: 12





	Comfort During Illness

As soon as you woke up, you knew something was off. There was a strange kind of pressure behind your eyes and your head felt as if you were carrying a bag of rocks on it. You were hesitant about telling Tom and worrying him, so you didn’t bring it up, instead kissing him goodbye gently, the way you did every morning since he had begun filming again. Your lips brushed against his softly as you called out his checklist to make sure he had everything; script, spectacles, wallet, phone, sunglasses, and a mask, which had become a part of the new normal. His eyes smiled at you, a happy twinkle in them as he waved to you from the car while it pulled away. It was only after the vehicle was out of sight that you allowed your shoulders to sag as you made your way back to the lift and your flat. You brewed yourself a cup of strong herbal tea and hoped against hope that it would be enough to fend away whatever you were coming down with. However, a few classes in, your sore throat, throbbing head and blurry vision made it clear that whatever this was, it was not going away anytime soon. You just prayed it wasn’t something that was contagious.

When Tom returned, he was surprised to find that you weren’t sitting with a book on the sofa, or at your desk with a class going on. He peeped in the kitchen, and you weren’t there either, or in your bedroom. Panic began to seize his throat as he called out for you. And then he heard you call back to him from the spare room, the one that was a glorified luggage room according to him. This flat was far too big for two people. Coming to the door, he tried to twist the knob, except it didn’t budge.

“Sweetheart, I think the door is locked.”

“Yeah, it is.” You replied tiredly. You were sitting with your back against the door so you didn’t have to talk too loudly.

“Did you get locked in? Wait, I’ll get the extra keys.” You could hear him move, his footstep heavy against the floor.

“No. Wait, don’ go.” You called him. Even with a door between you, you could hear the surprise as he made his way back to the door. “I locked it. ‘M not well and it could be contagious. Gonna live in this room till it passes.”

Tom chuckled as he tried the door again. “Darling, don’t be silly. Let me in, and I’ll cuddle you till you’re better.”

But you were stubborn. “No. Migh’ be contagious. I brought some clothes and other necessities in here. And there’s some food in the fridge for you.” 

There was a brief moment of silence as Tom realised that you were not joking, before he let out a groan. “Sweetling. Let me in. You can’t deal with this alone.”

Yet you refused to open the door. After nearly an hour of similar back and forth, with a door between you, Tom gave up and called one of his friends on the set. Soon enough, the studio doctor was there with a nurse, dressed in personal protective equipment with needles and swabs. Tom rolled his eyes when you peeped from the door to make sure he was well away from it before you let the doctor in, and he definitely was not amused when you jokingly referred to yourself as a biohazardous entity. After taking a sample of your blood, a few swabs from your throat and nose, the doctor assured you that your tests would be pushed to the front of the line, which while it made you feel guilty, you knew that Tom needed to know what was going on for his peace of mind and he was going to pull whatever strings he could to make sure that you received the best care. Since you were allowing the doctor in, Tom quickly cooked up some soup and sent in on a tray, with water and paracetamol. The doctor was not very successful at hiding his amusement at the situation he found himself in, while you refused to open the door if Tom was within three feet of it.

Your night was one of the most miserable you could remember. You had to plead with Tom to sleep in the bedroom instead of on the sofa and he gave you enough push-back to tire you out completely. But when you lay down, your nose blocked up completely and made the headache you were fighting flare up. So you settled with your back against the headboard, but the unnatural position prevented you from getting any rest. It was only early in the morning that you managed to fall asleep, grateful that it was the weekend and you did not have to take class. It felt like you had only been asleep for a few moments when the incessant knocking on the door.

“Love, please open the door. Your results came back and it’s a case of bad allergies. I won’t catch it. Please let me in.” He called, not yelling but loud enough to pierce through your sleepy haze. You managed to drag yourself to the door, click the lock open and then you allowed yourself to fall into Tom’s arms, exhaustion making your limbs heavy. His hands went around you as he supported your weight, gently maneuvering you back to the bed. “My poor little love.” He murmured as he gently carried you to the bed and tucked you in, making sure there were pillows all around you. He pulled away as he wrapped the duvet around you and you whimpered.

“Don’ go away.” You reached out from under the pile of pillows, not wanting to be alone in the large bed.

“I’m just getting you a few things, love. Just a few moments and nothing in the world can take me away from you, I promise you.”

Tom seemed to potter around in the kitchen for what seemed to be ages. When he returned, you turned your head to see him carrying a large tray which he placed on the night table. You couldn’t really make out what was on it, and so you gave up trying to, instead curling into the side of Tom’s thigh as he sat down beside you. 

“Are you hungry, my Little Miss Stubborn?” He teased you gently, a smile in his voice as he ran his fingers through your hair.

Your response was a single grunt. Tom chuckled. “I’m afraid I don’t speak that language, but the doctor said you could take whatever anti-allergen we had at home if you put something into your tummy. Could you sit up for a little bit, for me, please?”

You turned to give him a very weak stink-eye as you slowly hauled yourself upright against the headboard. He knew you would never say no when he asked something for himself, when he said ‘for me, please’ because he rarely asked. But you should have anticipated that he would use that against you for your own sake. Now that you were sitting up, you saw that there was a mug of tea, most likely the herbal tea he needed to drink on performance days, a few slices of toast and a bar of chocolate. There was also some medicine and a glass of water. 

Tom handed you the water and the tablet first, and you struggled to swallow it. His hand climbed your back inside your shirt and rubbed gently while you sputtered. Before you could reach across him to put the glass away, he took it from your hand and set it down himself. The coughing and sputtering made your head throb even more and you whined quietly as you rested against his shoulder.

“Oh, my love. I’m sorry this is happening. Let me take care of you.” His voice was low and warm, soothing as compared to any other sound that seemed to grate on every nerve you had. His arm went around you and he tucked you into his side, placing the mug in your hands. You wrapped your fingers around it, taking a small sip before allowing him to feed you toast a little at a time. You managed one slice before you begged off, and although your mouth felt unpleasant, even though the tea was delicious, you took the small piece of chocolate he offered you before closing your eyes again. You felt him pull away again, and he tenderly helped you lie back down. This time he was not gone for very long as he cleared away your breakfast.

When he returned, he had chosen to forgo a shirt and was in comfortable pajamas as he climbed in beside you, under the duvet. The medicine was already beginning to take effect and you were drowsy, your limbs heavy as you took rattling breaths through your mouth. And then you felt Tom’s chest press against your back, warmth from his skin seeping through your clothes as one of his arms went under your head while the other anchored you firmly against him. Just before sleep pulled you under, you felt the soft kiss on the top of your head as he whispered into your hair. 

“Rest, my little love. I will take care of you.”


End file.
